Picard to House
by catkid3
Summary: Though centuries apart, these men are destined to cross paths. When the Enterprise is crippled with a dying patient onboard, Picard resorts to a doctor who died three hundred years before him - Gregory House.
1. One

One

*House*

11:12 AM, January 7, 2005

"But mommy, I haven't finished my level yet!"

I pouted as Lisa Cuddy peered in the exam room I occupied, a stern frown across her face. "Five more minutes, pwease?"

"Grow the hell up," Cuddy snapped. "There's a woman out here who's been waiting for two hours!"

"Does she know how to catch Pokémon?" I unpaused my game and kept playing.

"That is such a dumb question, I don't even know where to-"

"Shame. No point seeing her then. She could teach me. I can't catch this damn charizard!"

A folder suddenly appeared in my face, my Game Boy clattering onto the ground. I gave my boss a glare that could kill and grabbed my present. The first thing I noticed when I opened it was a note on how the patient had been struggling to breathe.

"Asthma," I tossed the folder back and grabbed my cane. "Give her an inhaler and a lesson on not destroying your lungs by running."

"How-"

"How else you do notice you can't breathe?" I stopped in front of Cuddy. "Well first, you either have to be a smoker or a health fanatic by actually doing physical activity. It's a pretty common way to notice that you're not taking in oxygen."

I slithered past the dragon and made my way towards the cafeteria. Years of experience have taught me to learn when she's angry, her high heel clacking gets louder. Shame my cane doesn't have a second gear or a secret katana in it.

"You can't just leave like this every time you've got clinic duty!" Cuddy managed to block my path. "You have about a million hours to make up and I know that Chase has been covering-"

"Actually, I can leave. Time for my mid-morning meal," I poked her with my cane and kept walking. "Vicodin, idiots and a milkshake - yummy!"

The sound of a folder being slammed against the wall made me grin. She wouldn't be bothering me for a while.

Even though Christmas was over three weeks ago, the lobby and hallways still had tinsel and those stupid sparkly decorations hanging about. Every time I came down from my office I was almost blinded. That would've been interesting; a blind cripple with a cane. Definitely not original though.

I spotted Wilson the second I entered the cafeteria and limped to his table. He sat with a half-eaten sandwich, a pristine lab coat and a foul-smelling drink. "Where'd you go last night? I was expecting you to join my alcohol stash and I," I said, taking a sip of his beverage. "And what the hell is this..stuff?"

Wilson didn't look up from his newspaper. "Well, sorry to miss your party, but I'm keeping to my resolution."

"Keeping my beloved happy by not hanging out with his best friend?"

"No alcohol. Julie and I are going sober."

I sniggered. "Well, judging by how tired you look, I'm guessing you're lying to me. You two

probably got drunk last night and things got-"

"Oh stop it. I didn't sleep well," Wilson growled, flipping over the page. "Julie's sister just got divorced and she was busy crying, and guess who had to comfort her?"

"So the drink is supposed to be a substitute?" I asked.

"Its a damned ice coffee. Is that a problem, dearest?"

"Not at all. Just never drink it again. This is what they drink in hell. You don't want a head start, do you?"

Wilson slammed his hand on the table and sighed. "Yes, mom."

"That's my boy!" I smiled, patting him on the shoulder. "Now go tell some patients they're dying."

Rude insults floated in my ears as I strolled away, a piece of his sandwich in my hand. I swirled around. "Now Jimmy, remember there are children and religious people about. Keep yourself nice, dammit."

I pushed past crowds of nurses and teary patient family members, only just making it to the elevator. It was always annoying when I managed to bump into an ex-patient that I once suffered with; the particular man staring at me was one of those. His arm got blown off in Germany while commanding some troops to get the hell out of an ambush.

Being named Captain Darling doesn't suit him. He's almost as obnoxious as I am.

"Ah, Doctor House!" The sneer on his face was obvious before the doors even closed. "And somehow you're still here. You're rude, you snap, you endanger lives; you haven't got a chance if you get fired."

"Thank you Darling," I snarled. "And I hope your mother dies in a freak yachting accident."

The gate to freedom opened and I limped away from the former Captain, his beady eyes giving me a final twitch before he disappeared behind metal once more. If there was no such thing as jail I'd love to beat the crap out of him with my cane. Not my favourite cane though; I'd buy a steel one instead.

"House!"

I snapped out of my thoughts to find myself already in my office, my slaves staring at me from the conference table. Cameron was making her way over, placing a document on my desk.

"Were you expecting someone else?" I said, flipping open the folder.

Cameron ignored my comment and described what I already read on the paper. "Forty one year old male with difficulty breathing, liver failure, cracked skull, a swollen tongue and skin lesions. He's in the ICU on a ventilator."

"Damn. Now I can't ask how badly his last girlfriend treated him," I limped over to the whiteboard and began writing down the patient's symptoms. "Ideas?"

The other three idiots in my presence looked at each other blankly.

"You didn't read the full report then?" Chase spoke up.

"Of course not. That means I care too much about them," I tapped my marker. "Did I miss reading how he got bitten by a dog at age five and got rabies?"

"He's got..unusual blood," Cameron stuttered. "..When we started testing him for infections we noticed how high his white blood cell count was. Someone as sick as him should have a level that high, but his was off the charts."

"He also has twice the number of normal red blood cells and all sorts of antibodies floating around. He's some kind of Superman." Foreman added.

"Oh wow! Look! You've found a special patient! Congratulations!" I pulled open my bottom desk drawer and used a spare party popper, giving a fake smile. "Never thought I'd get to use that. Get to your point; I think I have some champagne around somewhere.."

"He's not a normal human being," Chase blurted out. "I rechecked the samples three times and he can't have such ridiculous results!"

"What? So you think you've found an alien?" My voice echoed as I searched below the desk. "I better find my phaser then - there might be a Klingon about!"

My team looked awkwardly around, staring at their feet.

I grew impatient. "You can tell me what's wrong, I'm a doctor."

Cameron shifted uncomfortably. "..His blood is pink."


	2. Two

Two

*Doctor Crusher*

Mid 2357

Screams of pain kept coming past me. Burns, lacerations and blood littered the floor of my medical bay. Some had passed out from agony and others thrashed violently against the small staff I had that wasn't somewhere else onboard. It'd been going for mere minutes, but it had felt like hours.

Of course the Romulans had to show up. We were simply delivering some vaccines to an outpost _nowhere near_ the Neutral Zone; from what I could tell, no one on the bridge saw the first attack coming either.

"Picard to sickbay!"

"Sickbay here!" I held onto one of the beds while the ship rocked.

"What's your status? We're attempting to get the warp drive online-"

"We've got wounded coming in from decks five, six and nine. No casualties yet," I dashed over to a wounded ensign and injected some painkillers. "But if we don't get out of here quick enough I won't have any patients left to treat!"

"Understood. Keep me informed."

Another blast of torpedoes struck the ship, sending the tricorder in my pocket flying across the room. Nurse Ogowa huddled with another ensign underneath the desk in my office, delivering Lieutenant Dakoter's baby six weeks early. Her screams outmatched the others by a wide margin.

At Starfleet Medical they trained us to deal with high pressure situations, but that was one of those times where it was becoming too much. I was understaffed, overworked and had very little sleep the night before.

"Damned Romulans," I cursed. We were almost out of hyposprays and had more injured people than supplies we had left. "Get some more pain relievers!"

"Powers' been diverted to the engines, sir! Replicators are offline!" A voice shrilled back.

I swore quietly. An ensign nearby continued screaming, writhing from the pain her burns were giving her. The most I could do was apply a dressing and let her squeeze my hand.

Just as I thought I would have a breakdown, the shaking stopped. We'd either destroyed the Romulans or-

"Picard to sickbay. We've jumped to warp eight, heading for Starbase five two five. You're free to use replicators now."

"Thank you sir," I breathed in relief. Other officers had heard the conversation and were handing me multiple hyposprays. I bent over and injected my current patient, who relaxed immediately.

I turned to face my staff. "Inject every patient with relievers! We need to last until we get to Starbase."

As soon as I finished speaking, the ship suddenly thrust us forward; I fell into a couple of my staff, dropping their hyposprays in the process. I must've hit something on the way down; ringing appeared in my ears, escalating quickly. Patients kept screaming and wailing in misery - it was painful to listen to.

"Why'd I leave Starfleet Medical again?" I grumbled.

The doors opened and three officers stumbled in, carrying an injured lieutenant in their arms. His muscles spasimed violently, with boils distorting his face and a nick in his uniform producing a trickle of blood in his yellow shirt.

"Get him on a bed!" I leapt from the floor, grabbing a few hyposprays. The patient seemed unconscious, but I administered painkillers anyway. It seemed ethical. "What happened?"

"Found him on deck five," One officer panted. "I think there was some sort of intruder and they must've done something to him. No explosions or anything."

It took me a minute to analyse the state this man was in. A nurse provided me with a respirator, as he was struggling to breathe. His bulged cheeks indicated a swollen tongue and there were pus-filled boils breaking out all over his face. Looking at his eyes revealed another problem as well.

"His liver is failing!" I shouted.

A hypospray was pushed into my hand. I injected into his neck, expecting to see instant results. "Need another dose!"

Another hypospray, another injection. He wasn't responding to anything.

Nurse Ogowa appeared at my side. "We're going to need to operate - the baby isn't moving."

"Get me another dose," I instructed.

Ogowa hesitated. "If we push him too far-"

"He should've responded by now to the stimulant. Get me another."

It was only when he crashed after another injection that I realised who my patient was.

"His liver almost shut down, he lost half of his blood and I can't find any drugs in his system that would explain what's happening to him!" I almost slammed the table in frustration. "He's not going to make it if we don't get to a Starbase in - I'd say - twenty four hours!"

Jean-Luc peered at me from the head of the briefing room with concern. "But as Geordi already explained, the Romulans knocked out our warp engines with a delayed explosion. We aren't going anywhere for at least two days."

"He **needs** attention. Surely we can get a ship to drop by and take him-"

"Already tried," Riker said grimly. "The nearest ship is the USS Delta and she won't be here for a day at the most."

"He'll be dead by then!" I pleaded. "Data, isn't there anything you can think of?"

The android thought for a moment. "There is one possibility, but it would require Starfleet's permission."

"To hell with that; we don't have time," Jean-Luc stated. "What do you have in mind?"

"Starfleet has a recorded account of James Kirk's crew performing a time warp to the twentieth century nearly eighty years ago in order to obtain a humpback whale needed to disable a probe that was threatening Earth's oceans."

A silence fell across the room. Data looked puzzled. "Am I confusing you?"

"Let me get this straight," Riker shifted in his chair. "You want us to attempt a time warp in a Galaxy class starship to find a doctor that can help Worf?"

"Precisely, Commander."

"But Data, that time warp took place in a Klingon bird of prey, not a Federation ship." Jean-Luc pointed out.

"It would be near impossible to attempt it with a ship of our size," Geordi added. "Plus, it was never fully investigated or studied by Starfleet."

"Well, I think you face a choice, Captain," Counsellor Troi spoke for the first time since we'd gathered. "Either we find a way to get Worf to someone who can treat him and possibly interact with the past, or we stay where we are and your security chief dies an agonising death."

Jean-Luc jumped out of his chair and began pacing, staring outside at the stars.

I grew impatient. "Captain, we need to do something!"

It was a long time before he spoke again. "Call the Klingon high council. It's time I redeemed a favour."


	3. Three

Three

*Counsellor Troi*

Mid 2357

I had sensed the Captain struggled with that decision, but I believed he made the right choice.

We had to negotiate with the Council for half an hour just so we could discuss the matter with one of the higher-ups. And even he proved difficult to agree with; he was definitely hiding something, but I hoped it wasn't important. But we eventually settled on a plan; while we borrowed the bird of prey, the Klingon crew would be guests aboard the Enterprise. Which doctor we were going to visit was another decision we'd make onboard the bird. Choosing the officers who'd attend was another problem too. All the senior officers were automatically required, with two security lieutenants, Chief O'Brien and two nurses to assist Doctor Crusher in treating Worf.

Within three hours a bird of prey was approaching us, ready for the test that lied ahead. We were fortunate in that it had only been a few light years away from our position. From when we first talked to the Klingon captain, I felt a heavy sense of dread across the bridge.

It wasn't until we stood on the other ship's transporter pad that we eased up a bit. My hand rested on Worf's biobed; he looked truly awful.

The Klingon captain - whose name I couldn't pronounce - was waiting to greet us, a dirty smile across his face. "Ah, Captain Picard! Welcome aboard," He instantly changed attitude. "I trust my ship will be returned in one piece?"

"I assure you it will be," Jean-Luc replied. "And I trust you will leave my ship in its current condition?"

"Of course." He turned and barked in Klingon. Within seconds his crew had taken our place on the transporter, the captain following them. "Do not disappoint me, Picard."

The transporter activated, the Klingon crew vanishing instantly. Jean-Luc immediately started leading us to the bridge through dark and unclean hallways. The Enterprise looked heavenly compared to that.

"Do Klingons have any sense of cleanliness?' Beverly muttered, pushing Worf in front of me. I sensed how stressed she was and brought up the rear of the bed. A boil on Worf's face popped, with pus oozing down his nose. Bile rose in my throat.

Jean-Luc reached the bridge first, stopping in front of the viewscreen. He gave us a solemn look. "Now comes what we couldn't agree on; where do we go?"

Data took a breath. "I have consulted over two thousand possible doctors as candidates from across Earth's history. One candidate was Florence Nightingale, but they do not have the equipment necessary to appropriately treat Worf's injuries. Another was Christiaan Banard, who performed the first heart transplant in nineteen sixty-"

"What's your point, Data?" Riker snapped.

"..There was a doctor in the early twenty-first century named Gregory House, who was thought to be one of the best, despite his methods of treatment-"

"What? What do you mean?"

Data shrugged. "The file does not say. Most of the information about him was lost or removed after the Third World War. He did have at least four other doctors on the side to help him diagnose a patient and solved thousands of cases during his career."

"..You don't mean…that Gregory House?" Beverly said slowly.

"He is the only doctor on file with that name."

"I've read so many stories about him in ancient articles - he was a total jerk to his patients! Who knows what he might do if he realises Worf isn't human?!"

Jean-Luc sighed in desperation. "Do you have any other suggestions?"

"I believe given the circumstances, he is our best choice, sir." Data answered.

I could tell the rest of the crew didn't know what else to do. "We have to try it, Captain. At least then Worf still has a chance."

"The twenty-first century is primitive compared to us!" Beverly remarked. "No tricorders, no hyposprays, no universal medical library; they won't know how to treat him! Why can't we try the twenty fifth century? No, I know! Let's just go to a Starbase!"

"If we travel to the future, Doctor," Geordi explained, "we may learn things about our futures we weren't supposed to know. We might create a paradox or somethin'."

Beverly was exasperated. "Jean-Luc, surely you think this is crazy!"

"This whole operation is crazy," the Captain stated. "But I think it's worth the risk. At least in the twenty-first century it'll be easy for us to disguise our intents; Worf's forehead, for example. A result of bad so-called 'plastic surgery'."

"Do you think they'll believe that?" Riker asked.

"Does anyone have a better idea?!" Jean-Luc snapped. He leant on a nearby console. "It's not ideal, but it'll have to do."

The rest of us took that as the 'return to your post' cue. Jean-Luc lay back in the captain's chair, while Riker and I took ones either side. Both of them were extremely worried.

"You're doing the right thing, Captain," I said soothingly.

Jean-Luc gave the order to engage and sighed. He appeared weary. "I hope you're right, Counsellor."

It seemed as though no time had passed before Data's voice broke off my train of thought. "We have arrived in the Earth year of two thousand and five, approximately thirty light years from Earth."

"Cloak up," the Captain ordered. "We don't want them tracking us on their..what's it called?"

"Radars?" Riker suggested.

"Yes, that's it. Radars."

While Data pushed the ship up to warp six, I stepped off the bridge to find Beverly on the deck below with two of her nurses, tending to Worf. "How is he?"

"His liver has stabilised," Beverly checked his heart rate. "I'm a little concerned about his heart. I don't get why his second heart hasn't kicked in, considering I had to electrocute him."

"What about his second liver then?" I suggested. "If his backup systems aren't responding-"

"-then maybe his immune system is failing too," Beverly grabbed her tricorder and scanned Worf's body. "His white blood cell count is through the roof!"

"So that means..?"

"His immune system isn't failing, its attacking him," She scanned him again. "If this was the intruder's fault, then they must've given him something that's sent his body into overdrive, but I cannot find it!"

Beverly slammed her hand on the corridor wall. "Why didn't I think of that before?! Of course they injected him with something!"

She leant against the wall, shaking slightly. The amount of frustration coming from her was almost heartbreaking.

"Get some rest. You are exhausted and Worf needs a rested doctor," I said quietly. "The nurses and I will watch him."

A small nod from Beverly preceded her stepping into the turbo lift. "I'll camp in the captain's room."

I smiled. "Hope there's no bedbugs."

The doors shut as my friend went for her well-deserved rest. I turned and gazed at Worf's distorted features. "And I hope we can heal you in time."


	4. Four

Four

*Commander Riker*

2005

"Are you sure these are right, Data?" I asked hesitantly, peering at my clothes.

"Of course, sir. Starfleet records indicate that this was the main type of clothing worn by commoners of this era."

I had no choice but to believe him. Somehow I thought purple shorts, nail polish, three nose piercings and a black tank top with 'BLACK VEIL BRIDES' across the front didn't suit the twenty-first century. Or me, for that matter.

But then I realised my error. "Data, your amazing file thing looked up punks!"

The android was puzzled. "..Punks?"

"You know - people who dressed like we are!" I explained. "Black this, black that-"

"But you do look handsome in it," Troi smiled. She had been given a sensible outfit, with a plain black top and a skirt.

"Yeah, well, be lucky you're not in this," I grumbled.

The Captain emerged from the turbolift, straightening a new leather jacket. He ripped off a hat Data had given him and threw it away. "I don't think I'm young enough to wear this."

"You do look young for your age, sir," Beverly piped up. She was also accompanying us to the surface, dressed in a crisp white lab coat and fake ID. Worf lay by her on an ancient gurney. "I doubt anyone will notice you if they notice Will."

"This is the last time I let you do the shopping, Data," I growled.

Jean-Luc sighed. "Just go through the plan, Number One."

"We'll transport down with Worf about three blocks from House's hospital in an alleyway. From there we race down the street screaming for help and ask for directions to Princeton Plainsboro," I said. "Our story will be that he went missing for a day or two and we found him in that alleyway when his girlfriend became concerned. Beverly, that's your role."

"Understood." The doctor replied.

"Once inside, Deanna and I will convince the doctors that Beverly work alongside Doctor House. If all goes well, Beverly can use the hospital's equipment and House to work out what that Romulan gave Worf."

"Data, until further notice, you are in command of..this ship," Jean-Luc struggled to find the right words. "We may be gone for several days, but will stay in contact."

"Yes sir." The android responded.

The Captain looked around one last time before leading us to the transporter room. Chief O'Brien was already at the controls. "Ready when you are, sir."

We settled ourselves on the pad, excited and scared of what this Earth was like. The rings in my nose made it difficult to sniff; I noticed Troi had a few in one of her ears.

I looked over my shoulder at Worf. It was hard to believe such a fierce warrior could be reduced to this state. He would've gone on about how his honour was destroyed by letting others see him like this.

But there was no more time for thinking as Jean-Luc gave the order and our deceptive plan began.


	5. Five

Five

*House*

12:33 PM, January 7, 2005

After my team's revelation, I forced myself off to see the patient for myself. Idiots who I assumed to be his slaves sat by his bedside, looking concerned. And it certainly wasn't pretty; it was difficult to see what the patient looked like through all the boils and blood.

"Looks like he got hit by a bus," I said quietly, shutting the door behind me. "And stung by a thousand bees. Did he have rabies as a kid?"

The man closest to me, a old bald guy who looked too old to be wearing leather, stood up suddenly. "I assume you're Doctor House?"

"No, I'm his personal chef," I pushed my way to the patient's IV drip. "He's barely on any morphine."

"He has a strong tolerance for pain," A dark-haired goth woman spoke up. She was leaning against her partner, an obvious wanna-be emo with smudged eyeliner.

"I don't know if you checked sweetheart, but this is a hospital, not a spiritual test clinic. He definitely needs some drugs."

"But drugs could damage his system!" The woman argued.

"Why?" I sat on the edge of the bed and pointed my cane at her. "Isn't he normal? See any aliens around here? Hmm? Or should I be calling Ghostbusters?"

"If you must know, he has a genetic condition that causes his immune system to attack painkillers that are injected. I can't allow him on a higher dosage." This time it wasn't the goth lady speaking.

I painfully shifted around to find another woman standing in the doorway. Bright orange hair shone against her lab coat, with an unreadable expression to match.

"Mysterious person. I like that," I said. "Who are you?"

"I'm Doctor Crusher. I'm..his girlfriend."

"..Never heard of you."

"I've just started working here. I'm supposed to be upstairs-"

"...Nope. Still don't know you," I leapt off the bed. "I don't know if you noticed, but I'm not a receptionist who's bored and wanted to go play doctors with the ugliest patient'."

Crusher looked disgusted. "You are horrible."

"Thanks. Can I interrogate you for a moment?"

I didn't allow her an answer before shoving her outside the ICU. "Your patient has pink blood. Explain."

"Genetic disorder."

"Rule one - everybody lies."

"Well, what else do I say? He got exposed to some sort of radiation and now he's a distorted Superman?"

"That'd be a much cooler story," I said. "But I can't treat my patient-"

"Our patient."

I pretended to look hurt. "..I'm sorry, 'our' patient?"

"Yes. I've been assigned to your team for this case."

"Remember my rule? Everybody lies," The pain in my thigh began to scream again. "Now, my team are going to do some tests on this..thing. If it is a genetic disorder as you're boldly lying to me, I'm sure that will show up."

"Of course." Crusher half-smiled. "If you excuse me, I'd like to be alone with my patient for a while."

"Of course," I mocked. "Go smooch that boyfriend of yours; it'll be a lot harder with a tube involved," I limped back to my office, popping a couple more Vicodin on the way. "Yummy."

Cameron appeared in the doorway when I showed up, holding some folders under her arm. "We've run the tests-"

"Wow, aren't you a little rascal? I was just telling that doctor you guys were going to do them."

"You mean Beverly?"

I did a double take. "..Beverly?"

"Beverly Crusher?..Didn't Cuddy tell you? She's joined our team."

"That's ridiculous!" I exclaimed. "She's not even employed at this hospital! And I don't need her - tell Mommy I'm a big boy now."

"You wanna complain about her, go to Cuddy," Cameron sighed. "Blood tests came back negative for about a hundred infections. It's not bacterial, it's not a virus and it's not cancer."

"Get him an MRI. See what's going on in that crazy liver of his. And do a tox screen too."

"We already did a tox screen-"

"Well, why didn't you tell me?" I pouted. "Daddy needs to know these things before he starts killing a patient."

"He's completely negative. No alcohol, no drugs-"

"No overdosing on cosmetic surgery? Damn. Do a heavy metal test."

Before she could protest, I turned and started heading towards the elevator. And as expected, she came chasing after me. "Where are you going?"

"It's lunchtime," I said. "Going to steal Wilson's wallet."


	6. Six

Six

*Chase*

9:38 PM, January 7, 2005

"He's negative for heavy metals," I explained. "No lead, no arsenic, no gold, no nothing."

House stroked his chin; he obviously wasn't happy with the news. "Fine then. Throw your suggestions out; if they're bad I'll whack them with my cane."

None of us spoke. Foreman leaned back in his chair while Cameron fiddled with her hair.

"You're not intubated; you can talk," House snarked.

"We don't know," I stood up angrily. "We don't know and I don't know. He hasn't got cancer, it's not autoimmune, it's not an infection, it's not hepatitis-"

"We need a more detailed history," House scribbled my proclamation on the whiteboard.

"What we have is all we have," Cameron picked up a blue file and flipped through it. "Patrick Doug, aged forty one, just moved here from Malaysia, no surviving family."

"What about that awful thing that's called his forehead?"

"His girlfriend said he had plastic surgery after a car accident and it didn't work." I said.

House leant on his cane. "I don't know any plastic surgeons who are that incompetent that they screwed up this guy's face. He's hiding something."

"But we can't prove anything unless we know what we're looking for!"

"Do an MRI, a CT; any test you can think of, go run it," House growled. "I want this thing and his girlfriend out of this hospital."

"Can't this wait till tomorrow?" Cameron sighed. "Some of us would like to get some sleep."

"That'd be like putting off Christmas shopping till Christmas Eve. Go run the damn tests."

I stared in frustration as my boss limped away.

"There are days where I want to lock him in and make him stay all night," Cameron lay her head on the table. "See how he likes it."

"Tell you what," I said. "You two go home and I'll do the tests. Shouldn't take that long."

My co-workers initially rejected my proposal, but agreed when I told them I was a night owl and would appreciate some House-free hours at the hospital.

"Thanks Chase," Cameron patted me on the shoulder.

I smiled back as they packed up their gear and wearily trudged to the elevator. I fought away the calling of sleep and headed to the patient's room. Princeton was always busy, but at night it didn't feel like it. The halls were barren, the only sounds from some floors being heart monitors, ventilators and nurses gossiping. Quite spooky sometimes.

If only I could've heard the footsteps behind me before I was grabbed by the throat and pulled into a cupboard.

Everything moved so quickly; I couldn't process it in time to stop my attacker. Whoever they were, they were ridiculously strong. My breaths were restricted to high-pitched squeaks as the door closed and I was enveloped in darkness.

Maybe I should've taken that karate class in Melbourne...

"Careful! We're not meant to kill him!" A woman whispered. Her accent was unfamiliar to me.

The arm around my throat disappeared, at the same time throwing me into someone else's. A sharp pinch on the side of my neck startled me. Most likely a sedative. My hands were forced behind my back as I heard the sound of tape being ripped.

"Why isn't he out yet?" A man hissed. Everything was starting to blur; the drugs were working too fast.

He got his response as I finally succumbed to the injection and allowed it to take me under.


	7. Seven

Seven

*Saike*

9:59 PM, January 7, 2005

"We shouldn't have done this."

My assistant Tirel peered at me from the other side of the room, her ski mask blocking most of her lovely features. She was perched on a silver bench, obviously nervous. "He was probably going to help another patient!"

"We can't take any chances. Who knows who this guy is?" I replied.

Our prisoner was lying on one of the tables, concoction keeping him under. "He's been restrained, silenced and sedated; they're never going to hear him."

"We're in the morgue, Saike," Tirel snapped. "They're going to come in here at some point with a dead patient. They'll find this man and wake him up and we'll be going to prison."

"He's a member of the team who's treating the target!" Agitated, I marched across the room and ripped off the man's ID tag. "Robert Chase is a part of the diagnostics department. We've done the right thing; he won't be there to treat the target and we can go home!"

"We've abducted this human!"

I sighed. "What do you suggest we do then?"

"Stop the drugs and let him go, obviously!" Tirel said. "It was dark, remember? He never even glimpsed our faces. He won't know who we are or what we are. We can still let him go."

"It's too late. He'll awaken and know there are people in this hospital who are out to get them."

"Saike?" A deep voice filled the room, echoing off the walls. I turned to find Commander Taibak staring disapprovingly, his eyes on our hostage. "What have you done now?"

"It was a stupid idea sir..we thought he.." I struggled for words.

"We acted more out of fear, sir," Tirel spoke up. "We were afraid somehow this young man was onto us, which was incredibly idiotic-"

"You idiots," Taibak crossed the room, glaring down at the prisoner. "This is the wrong man! You needed to abduct the leader, not his slave!"

"It's still better than having all of his assistants there to treat him!" I argued. "Now they'll be at a disadvantage."

"May I ask, sir, why you want the Klingon dead?" Tirel asked nervously, pulling off her mask. The light formed shadows around her forehead ridges; she looked even more beautiful.

"Revenge would be the simple answer. We came so close to destroying the Klingon treaty with the Federation and that Klingon is why we failed!" Taibak slapped the human across the face, a red mark forming on his cheek. Our drugs continued to keep him under.

"Wasn't it Picard who stopped La Forge from firing, sir?" I asked.

"That's what the report claims. But I know it's a lie."

Tirel shrunk back onto the bench as Taibak continued to assault the human, bashing and scratching the man with ferocious fury. I had no right to tell my commanding officer to cease, so I simply stood aside and watched quietly.

Once Taibak had finished his rage attack, the prisoner was a mess. Blood dripped from his ear, eyebrow and nose, staining his skin red. One of his eyes had begun to turn black.

"We can't just not leave him here," Tirel said quietly. "His assistants will realise he's missing!"

"Humans are weak. They've probably retired for the night," Taibak snarled. "That gives us a few more hours but we need to speed it up."

"What do you suggest, sir?" I leaned against the bench.

"I see two options. We either directly attack the Klingon's crew or we inhibit the team who are treating him."

"He would've died anyway! We didn't have to risk the crew and follow Picard!" Tirel protested.

Taibak smiled at us. "I wasn't satisfied. He's not dead."

"Wait. We're doing this all wrong," I rubbed my eyes. "Why are we holding one of the doctors when we could have the doctor in our possession?"

"Explain." Taibak's grin disappeared.

"This isn't the main physician treating the Klingon," I said. "Why do we not attack the head of the operation first? When they realise this doctor is missing, they'll know something is up."

"But holding him here will slow their diagnosis down!"

"We could stop it completely without their leader!" My voice raised slightly. "Even if we went through and abducted his assistants, he could still heal the patient."

I knew speaking those words was dangerous, but in my eyes, Taibak had planned this operation very poorly. Perhaps my advice would bring me a reward once we returned home.

My captain pondered for a time while Tirel and I glanced nervously at each other. He sighed and growled at me. "You had better not be wasting time changing my mind, Saike."

"I assure you sir, I will not," I fought hard to fight the grin I wanted to express. "He deserves to die, and you should be here to witness it."


	8. Eight

Eight

*House*

12:32 PM, January 8, 2005

"No one's heard from or seen Chase since last night," Cameron appeared in the doorway of my office.

I pushed past her and continued to my desk. "Top of the mornin' to ya!"

"He hasn't done the tests either," Foreman announced. "Something's gone wrong."

"Aye, laddy. He's probably gone to yer mum's 'ouse to find 'er Scotch."

"What the hell is with your accent?" Cameron snapped.

I pretended to look offended. "Well I could be a 'koala-wrestling, meat eatin' Aussie' or a 'Indian doctor from Dubai or an 'angsty black teen who stole cars'."

"Stop being racist," Foreman grumbled. "This is serious. We don't know where Chase is or what's he's-"

"Who cares? Let's go out and do something fun," I pulled out my wallet. "Who's up for bowling?"

"We'll go and run those tests ourselves," Cameron sighed. "But you need to tell Cuddy. Something is really, really wrong."

"Did she even like the wombat?"

I got no response as my team left in a huff, with Wilson appearing only seconds later. He had obviously tried to run, his breathing fast and erratic. "Your patient.."

"Is dead?" I smiled. "Hurrah! I'm buying the beer tonight."

Wilson glared as he tried to regain his composure. "..heart attack..barely stable..."

"Dammit. Hoped he'd actually get bumped off."

"He's still..your patient, even if he looks...like an animal!"

"Oh please Wilson. He's not THAT furry."

Wilson collapsed into the nearest chair, burying his dark eyes in his hands. I grinned at his misfortune. Even when I first met him, he was never designed for anything more intense than walking to McDonald's.

"House, for once, take your patient seriously," Wilson rasped. "He just had a flippin' heart attack! Don't you think that's something to add to your stupid whiteboard?"

I stood up and leant on my cane, pretending to be in deep thought. "..If those forehead ridges had disappeared I'd say that was serious."

Wilson swore. "You're a jerk."

"And you're a baldie doctor!" I retorted, watching my friend leave in a huff.

Cameron marched up to me, her eyes blazing. "You didn't even tell him you haven't prescribed anything for this guy yet!"

"To be fair though, we don't really know what's going on-" Foreman started.

I picked up a nearby tennis ball and hurled it at him, popping him straight in the eye. "Sorry! That answer is incorrect! No kitchen set for you!"

To my surprise, Cameron stepped forward and grabbed my collar rather threateningly. "What are we going to tell his friends? 'Sorry, we can't cure him'?"

"Well if it means I can go home early-" Cameron's glare shut me up. "Foreman, go run the damn tests. Girl who's holding me hostage, you can go run a DNA test. Find out where this guy is actually from."

Cameron released her grip and scurried away in a huff, her ponytail bouncing up and down furiously. Foreman went to leave when he stopped at the door.

"I'm not the bell boy, I won't open it for you," I snapped.

"What are you gonna do while we go and do your work for you?" Foreman demanded.

I tried not to show I was taken aback by his outburst. "It was either going to go spy on Cuddy through her window, watch TV with Coma Guy or go look for the wombat."

"I don't care if you have to smash through Cuddy's window, just find Chase," Foreman said. "You might not care about him, but we do."

I watched as he let the door swing shut behind him, taking off in the opposite direction to Cameron. But then I stopped caring about them and my thoughts shifted to Chase. Yes, I did really want to hang out with Coma Guy, but I needed the extra slave around to finish my work.

The only problem was, where the hell was he?

"Where does an Aussie go to hide?" I murmured, strolling out of my office.

I filtered through a list of my favourite hiding spots in my head. He wouldn't be on the roof, he never went to the morgue and hated lying in MRI machines for a nap.

Just as I was starting to get lost in my thoughts, an English accent startled me. "Are you actually going to treat my friend or just wander around aimlessly?"

I looked around to see the leather jacket guy standing next to my office, clearly annoyed at my lack of doctory-ness. "Are you actually going to try and look like you're twenty in that coat?"

The older man marched up to me. "Now you listen here. I've put in a lot of effort trying to get my friend here so you could heal him, and yet here you are, acting like a child!"

"What were you expecting me to be like?" I answered. "All happy-happy in my stupid lab coat with a clipboard and test tubes in my pocket? That's what chemistry students dress like, not doctors."

"Well, stop acting like a student and be a damned doctor!" The man hissed. "My friend is dying!"

"I've had lots of people say that to me. If he dies, whatever. He can go dance on some fluffy clouds or something. Do I look like I care, Charlie?"

"It's Picard."

I sniggered. "What kind of name is that? Is your first name Jean-Luc as well?"

"As a matter of fact, yes."

"You need to watch some new TV shows; that one finished ten years ago." I sped off, leaving 'Picard' agape in the hallway.


	9. Nine

Nine

*Tirel*

12:57 PM, January 7, 2005

I observed as the lame man walked away from Picard, chuckling to himself. He and his colleagues were an odd collection of humans; so far I had seen them swear, imitate voices and insult others. We did those things as well, but these people were very different.

Saike's voice appeared in my earpiece. "What's he doing now?"

"Heading towards the lift," I peered at the selection pad the doctor was pressing.. It was difficult seeing from behind a couch. "I think he's going to floor one."

"Follow him!"

"How? I'm not wearing a disguise!"

"Explain you've had botched plastic surgery or something - just keep trailing him until I get there."

As a Romulan lieutenant, I had been given some interesting orders. I tried to think of this one as nothing more than a regular scouting mission. I had to be calm, collected and ordered.

Except I was following around a human who died three hundred years before I was born.

I slipped out from my hiding spot as nonchalantly as possible, making my way over to where the target stood. He mindlessly poked the metal doors with his walking stick.

I couldn't help but stare. "Is that going to make it arrive faster?"

"Yeah, I'm pressing a super secret button that's gonna make it whoosh down," The man snarked, accompanying his words with a grand sweep of his cane.

I was taken by surprise. He wasn't what I expected. "Are you always this rude?"

"Oh yes," The doors opened and both of us shuffled inside, crowding in with the other occupants. "Don't think that you're special."

As the lift descended I thought about my situation. If I let my emotions get in the way, this man will walk away and bestow whatever powers he has on the Klingon. _Oh, I sound like such a Vulcan._

"I was expecting you to comment on my unusual facial features," I muttered.

"Well, that would be rude, wouldn't it?"

"I can point out that your cane is an unusual feature."

"But that's not on my face."

"Most do not walk around with one."

"Then I guess that makes me hipper than most." The doctor flicked his hair back mockingly.

I gave him a puzzled look. "'Hipper'?"

"You know, I try to keep up with the young whippersnappers-"

"What does 'hipper' mean?"

"Cooler? Better? Get a dictionary." As the doors opened he stepped out and hobbled at an impressive speed away from me.

"How's it going?" Saike hissed.

I let my guard down and began to freak out again. "This human is intolerable! If we have to capture him, I'm serious I will end up hurting someone very badly!"

"Make him the person you unleash your anger on. Start trailing him."

I sighed and casually and began walking, keeping a respectable distance from the target. It was difficult and frustrating to lag behind him, for he was much slower than I anticipated.

"Could you hurry up and get here?" I whispered, not wanting to look strange to others. "I'm getting sick of feeling creepy."

"Keep investigating until I tell you to stop."

"Saike, this is pointless! They don't know what we've given him-"

"He's still alive," Saike snapped. My eardrum stung. "Taibak wants him dead. We will make sure of that."

His words lingered in my ears as I pursued the doctor, his stride gradually deteriorating the longer he walked. I was unsure what sort of injury would cripple a human to his condition; this wasn't common on Romulus. No one used canes.

He made a sharp turn and headed into room marked with 'Chapel' on the door. I didn't know what a chapel was, but remembering what Saike said, I waited before following him further.

My jaw almost fell open when I entered. Colours danced across the walls, with a giant cross hanging from the ceiling at the very back. The yellow light cast unusual shadows across it, giving it a happy and dark appearance at the same time. Rows upon rows of seats lead up to a lone wooden stand at the front, with yet another cross hanging from it.

The doctor was perched at a strange instrument next to the stand, his fingers dancing gracefully across the surface. I didn't know what music he was playing either, but I felt a tear roll down my cheek, smudging my make-up.

It wasn't sad, but it wasn't melancholy. It was just…haunting.

I sat on a nearby surface, allowing myself to become swept up in the tune. As soon as I heard Saike's voice in my earpiece, I ripped it out and threw it across the room.

The doctor looked up suddenly. "I see I've found myself another stalker. Don't you come over and tell me we're getting married."

"Your music.." I whispered. "It's enchanting."

I thought I caught him smiling, but it may have just been the light. "It's been a while since I played this. I don't kiss on the first meeting either."

"What is it?"

He glanced at me. "The piano? I'd be sending you off for tests if you didn't know. I forget the name of the piece though. It just comes naturally now."

If nothing, at least I knew what that contraption was called. I moved a few rows forward, intently listening to the musician. We didn't have any pianos on Romulus; I used to know how to play a lute, but that died out centuries ago.

"I wish I knew how to play," I mused quietly.

"If only there was a site that had videos that showed you how to play," The doctor commented. "Then I wouldn't have to actually teach you myself."

I took that as an invitation to sit next to him. He placed my hands on top of his, with mine moving whenever he played. It was an interesting sensation; he had to press violently for some notes and delicately for others.

"I still do not know your name." I murmured.

"House," He remained focused on his playing. "And then this-"

A hand reached from behind and covered his mouth while another dragged me off the seat. I crashed violently onto the cold ground, watching as Saike held House in his grip. His malicious expression was perpendicular to House's terrified round eyes as he squirmed for freedom.

It was then that I noticed Taiback's presence as he twisted my arms behind me. He leant into my ear and exhaled. "Thank you for your contribution, lieutenant."

House's eyes locked with mine as his muffled shouts went unheard. Saike gleefully pulled a syringe from his uniform and stabbed his prisoner, knocking him out instantly.

Taibak released me to assist Saike with restraining House. He smiled at me. "You'll be honoured upon our return."

I could only stare in horror at the unconscious doctor, wondering if his patient would die because of my foolishness.


	10. Ten

Ten

*Taibak*

2:33 PM, January 7, 2005

I stood proudly as I watched the human stir slightly in his drug-induced slumber. Saike had done a wonderful job of tying him up with this newfangled invention these people had - I think it was called 'duct tape'. Whatever it was, it held him to the chair tightly.

It was also great for restraining Romulan lieutenants who decided to go against what their superior officers commanded.

Tirel glared from her corner of the room, struggling against her bonds. "This is a foolish choice, Captain!"

"Just because you spent a few minutes with the human does not mean you're allowed to go and run off with him into the sunset," I hissed. "We have a job to do."

"You have an obsession you want to fulfil. And I don't want to be a part of it."

"If I let you walk free, there's no way you'll be able to return home with us. You'll remain here."

"I'd rather spend my days here than head to Romulus to be tried as a pawn for attempted murder!"

I smirked. "You mean 'successful murder'. I am not stopping until that damned Klingon has gone to hell."

"You can meet him there then." Tirel snapped.

"Oh shut up," Saike ripped off some more tape and waved it threateningly.

"Why can't we just leave him here and go home? With House incapacitated, the Klingon will die anyway!"

"I want to see him perish," I said.

Tirel spat at my feet. "The rest of the Federation has made peace with Klingons; why can you not?"

"We are not a part of their so-called Federation," I grabbed Tirel and pulled her up to my height. "You and I are part of the Romulan Empire. We do not make peace with Klingons."

I released my grip, watching as she collapsed onto the stone floor. Aimlessly I wandered over to the prisoner, fiddling through his pockets. My hands clasped around a strange medal object.

"Saike?" I held my discovery up. "What is this?"

"I believe it's what they had before communicators, sir. A 'mobile phone'," Saike commented.

"Interesting." It was much larger than a communicator, but had a similar design and colour scheme. I opened it to find a collection of buttons, with a small lit-up screen no taller than my thumb. It was cool in between my fingers, the light bouncing off it's smooth edges.

It gave me an idea. "Wake the doctor up."

Without hesitation, Saike gave our prisoner another injection, not caring to be gentle. The human took a moment to stir before gradually opening his woozy eyes.

I held up the phone. "Tell us how to work this."

He immediately glared. "You kidnapped me to tell you that? Not 'where's the safe' or 'how do I seduce Cuddy'?"

I slapped him across the face. "Do not be cheeky!"

"The word you're looking for is 'snarky'."

I pulled up a nearby chair and faced the defiant human. If his icy glare was supposed to intimidate me, it wasn't working. "I see we're going to have to be a bit more persuasive."

"Ever heard of Google?"

I growled. "Saike, shut him up already. I'll do this myself."


	11. Eleven

Eleven

*Wilson*

3:11 PM, January 7, 2005

"I'm sorry to tell you this, Mrs Lays," I placed my hands on the desk. "You have stage three breast cancer."

My heartbroken patient burst into quiet sobs, leaning on her husbands' shoulder. He nodded silently at me, his wedding ring standing out amongst his wife's chocolate hair. "Thank you for everything, Doctor."

They left swiftly, another couple to add to my list of lives I'd ruined. I normally found it took me a few days at least to erase my latest patient's upset face from my mind; this felt it would take longer.

But almost as fast as they left did Cuddy step inside, her weary expression perking up. "You got a minute?"

I didn't answer. Somehow I was already grieving for a woman who still had a few months on Earth.

"Wilson?" Cuddy sat in front of my desk. "Are you-"

"Why'd I become an oncologist?" I blurted out. "I feel as though everyday I'm telling another person that they've got six weeks to live, and then they start crying and tell me it's not my fault but it is because I can't cure them and I have to watch them decay and die and their families hate me-"

I forced myself to stop before any tears spilt out. I was NOT crying at work today.

Cuddy shifted a little closer. "..People forget that doctors have feelings too. I remember back in my ER days. We had a woman come in six months pregnant with four stab wounds; her husband was drunk and attacked her. Did an ultrasound and found the baby had died; there were cysts growing in the uterus. She died a few hours later."

Cuddy swallowed deeply. "I tried to save her, Wilson. I tried and cried all night afterwards. But there's only so much you can do."

I tried to absorb her words. I didn't want to say that I knew that and it wasn't helping, but she tried her best. "Thanks, Lisa."

"You're a great doctor. Remember that."

She went to say more, but my damned phone began ringing. I fumbled in my pocket and whispered my boss an apology. "Of course it's House," I pressed 'Accept' and sighed. "If you want a stripper tonight, I'm not hiring one for you."

"Shut up and listen closely," A stern voice snapped. I faintly heard the caller saying, "How's that? Good enough?"

I was confused. "House? That you?"

"No. My identity is not of concern right now."

"House, if this is a game-"

"I am not your 'House'," The voice growled. "But I do have him here-"

"Well, put him on!"

"..He's a bit too - how do you put it? Ah! - tied up to come to the phone," The mystery caller attempted a menacing laugh; someone in the background let out a mumbled yell.

Cuddy didn't look concerned - my office was quiet enough so she could hear the call as well - so I decided not to take it seriously. "Haha, very funny. You need a better laugh though-"

"Do not mock me!" The background mumbling continued. It sounded slightly familiar. "I have your House and I can kill him right now if I wanted."

"I don't believe you," My voice trembled slightly. This guy sounded really angry.

"You will in a second," I heard the sound of tape being ripped, followed by a hoarse whisper. "Wilson?"

My heart stopped. "..House? What's going on-"

"This isn't a joke, Wilson. I've been kidnapped by some more of those ugly forehead people," House sounded weak, his breathing laboured. The pain his leg must've come back. "I think I'm down in the bas-mmmh!"

As quickly as he started talking, House was silenced. The kidnapper reappeared on the line. "Are you convinced?"

"What do you want?" I tried to control my breathing. "You better not hurt him - he'll kill you later."

"How touching; humans standing up for one another," The voice laughed. "We want your patient dead. You let him pass into the next life and we'll release your House."

"That's insane!" The words left my mouth without realising it.

"That's our ransom. You kill the patient, you get your friend back." More mumbling in the background told me House disagreed greatly.

"Can't we come up with some other form of payment?" I stuttered. "We've got m-money-"

"Nothing else will be acceptable!" The man hissed. "We want that patient of yours dead."

"Mind telling me why?"

"He's an enemy of ours. We hate him and his spec-I mean, family," A faint slap cued some more mumbling from House. "Kill him. Do not call the police. Do not call security. The end."

Before I could say more, the line went dead. Cuddy gave me a look of worry I'd never seen on her. "We have to get him back."

"I hope you're not seriously thinking of killing the patient, Wilson!"

"Of course not!" I slumped back in my chair, the reality sinking in. "We have to stage a rescue mission. But before that.."

I pulled my pager and sent for Cameron and Foreman. Within minutes the two were standing awkwardly in my office, awaiting my instructions.

"Long story short: House has been kidnapped," I tried to remain calm. "They want us to get rid of his current patient, but of course, we can't do that. I need you two to put the guy in a coma, put up some fake monitors; they need to think that he's dead. Then we'll attempt to rescue House before they work out what's happened."

Cameron looked apprehensive. "Is this a joke?"

I slammed my hand on the desk. "No!"

Foreman crossed his arms. "We don't know where he is-"

"Wilson talked to him briefly. He thinks he's in the basement," Cuddy stood up, straightening her jacket. "We'll try there first. Carry out what Doctor Wilson said - you have my full support."

The younger doctors left in a flurry, slamming the door behind them. Despite having a plan, I felt no better. This had to work.


	12. Twelve

Twelve

*Cameron*

3:36 PM, January 7, 2005

I looked up at Foreman. "Ready?"

Without waiting for a reply, I pushed down on the syringe, injecting our patient with thiopental. The liquid drained into his body quickly, starting the circulatory journey. Within minutes his heart rate and blood pressure dropped drastically. It had taken some persuasion to get his friends to relax - I promised we weren't trying to kill him, but instead made up some jargon about the coma protecting his brain and spinal fluid.

"Thank heavens they believed us," I whispered to Foreman. "Do you think we should get another blood sample?"

"Might be an idea," He answered, pulling out another syringe. It was odd analysing pink blood instead of red, but it was nice for a change.

As expected, the computers gave us no answer. Foreman slammed the table in frustration. "What the hell is this guy full of?!"

"What have we tested for?"

"Metals, toxins, vitamin levels, white cell count, HIV; every freakin' thing on the checklist."

I was about to suggest another plan when the door of the lab burst open. The patient's friends were marching inside, led by the leather jacket man. He looked utterly furious. "You're supposed to be curing him!"

"Sir, we are really trying," I stammered. "His physiology..it's so unique-"

"Your boss is one of the most intelligent doctors in the country," Leather Man said, "yet you have barely done anything to treat our friend!"

"Because we don't know, okay?! He's not human!" I snapped. "I've treated thousands of patients and I've never seen one with pink blood."

"We can't treat him any further unless you do some explaining," Foreman rose from his seat. "We've done almost every single test available. He has forehead ridges, pink blood, an unusual spinal column and two of every damned organ."

I sighed. "Please. We need to know what's going on."

Leather Man buried his face in his palms. "If we tell you anymore, his security will be compromised-"

"He is in the safest place possible right now-"

"We think there may be people in this hospital who are trying to kill him," Emo Guy spoke up, scratching his beard. "He has some longtime..enemies who desperately want to eliminate him."

"Wait a minute," Foreman thought for a moment. "One of our friends received a call from some people who have kidnapped our boss and want this patient of ours dead. I'm assuming that's..who you mean?"

Leather Man's face turned into a frown. "..If that's the case, we better explain ourselves."

"Good. Start talking."


	13. Thirteen

Thirteen

*Cuddy*

4:15 PM, January 7, 2005

The second Cameron had rushed into my office I knew something was up. The fact that the patient's friends and Wilson were trailing along behind her meant something was really wrong.

It was a good thing I'd planned to take the rest of the afternoon off. It took a long time to hear out the friends' story, mainly from Leather Jacket Man.

"Let me get this right," I said slowly. "You are time travelers..from the twenty-fourth century..and that thing sleeping in my hospital is..an alien?"

"A Klingon, to be precise," The leather jacket man answered. It turned out he was called Picard. "The rest of us, except Deanna, are human like yourselves." He pointed to the woman standing next to Emo Man.

"And you serve on a spaceship?"

"A starship. The USS Enterprise-D. I'm the captain, and Will here is my first officer." Picard motioned to Emo Man, who grinned underneath his beard.

"Why are you here then?" I asked. "Our technology must be primitive compared to yours!"

"Our ship was crippled after an attack," Beverly spoke up. "It would've been too late for our friend if we waited for another ship to help us, so we decided to use a tactic another officer used two hundred years prior to take us back in time...we thought House would be a good doctor to have treat him."

I hung my head in disbelief. Time travellers and alien kidnappers in my hospital - it was utterly absurd. "So these people who attacked you - they've followed you here?"

"Somehow. They must've snuck onboard with our detection," Picard admitted. "They're another species called Romulans, who are not friendly with humans or Klingons in particular. While they attacked us they admitted to assassinate our friend, but didn't succeed. I believe they've come here to complete that mission."

"But can't any alien join your..fleet?"

"Our friend Worf is the first Klingon to join our fleet," Deanna explained. "The Romulans and Klingons have their own fleets and ships."

"So why have these people kidnapped my employee? Why not just stroll in and kill him then?"

"Romulans have a habit of wanting to be stealthy," Picard said. "They want it to look like an accident."

I sighed. "I think we need to make a deal."

"Agreed. What do you suggest?"

"You help my people rescue House," I thought it over slowly. "And I'll allow Beverly to use all of the resources we have to cure your friend. His physiology is too difficult for us."

Picard hesitated, but not for long. "I accept. So long as you keep our-"

"Story a secret? Of course," I finished. "No one would believe us anyway."

"That's comforting," muttered Will. "Now, do you know where your friend is?"

"We've got an idea from what Wilson found out," Cameron answered. "But I've got no clue how we fight these guys."

"It's possible they've brought their own weapons along - I doubt that they'll use your tools," Picard pulled out a thin silver device from the inside of his jacket. " **But** we have these."

He fiddled with his machine before a beam of red light came shooting out at Will, who promptly collapsed onto the floor. Deanna jumped back in surprise while my mouth hung open.

"Let's get us a House."


	14. Fourteen

Fourteen

*Picard*

January 7, 2005

The hallways of the hospital were twisted and menacing, despite the cream coloured walls. Lisa Cuddy was our guide towards the depth of basement, where the Romulans were suspected to be hiding. It was interesting to observe how doctors worked long before hyposprays and tricorders were invented. At least Beverly continued the tradition of lab coats.

Will recovered not long after the phaser shot, though I swore I saw glimpses of contempt in his face. "I'm sorry about that."

"Don't worry," Will assured me. "Damn good shot, sir."

I was about to keep insisting I apologise when Cuddy shushed us. We had reached the end of the hallway. She pressed one of the elevator buttons. "Don't draw attention to yourselves. We're almost there."

The doors opened and we filed inside, squeezing tightly between the shiny metal walls. It was similar to a turbolift, but was nowhere as sophisticated. Cuddy still had to press things in order to make the lift move. Primitive technology, but standard for them.

"What exactly is in the basement?" Deanna inquired.

"The morgue," Cuddy replied. "Some more imaging machines. I suspect these..aliens of yours have picked the morgue. It's full of weapons and corpses to use."

I saw Will grin faintly. A bell chimed and the doors opened, revealing a dim white hallway. A handful of doors littered the halls, but an eerie atmosphere was still present.

Cuddy immediately moved forward, but I gripped her back. "We could be ambushed."

She shook my hand off her shoulder. "Suggestions?"

"Let my crew go first," I said. "We've dealt with these people before and know how to handle them. They will kill you, regardless of the consequences."

Cuddy sighed. "Fine. I just want those..things out of my hospital and my employee back."

My crew seemed to know my commands before I did. Riker and Beverly drew their phasers, each backing up against the adjacent walls. I threw off my jacket and tossed it into the hall in front, watching as phaser fire disintegrated it instantly. A glance around told me the doctors were blown away.

Deanna's eyes narrowed as she sensed the area. "There is lots of anger present. I can't tell who it's coming from, but there is an ounce of fear," She looked puzzled. "Also some..amusement.."

Cameron and Forman exchanged glances. They obviously didn't believe their friend would be afraid, but that he would find it funny. Unusual at most.

I removed a phaser from my belt and changed it to a high stun setting. Riker moved first, shifting forward and letting loose a series of shots. They disappeared in a flash with retaliated shots. I caught a glimpse of a sleeve retreating into the darkness. "They're here."

Riker fired another shot into the abyss, this time successful. A cry preceded the appearance of a Romulan male, slumping unconscious onto the floor. He was dressed in casual human clothes, which confirmed my suspicions of attempted conformity. The hoodie also looked hideous on him.

I nodded to my crew, who silently moved past me down the hall. We paused, waiting for any sounds of life or further attacks. A glance over at Deanna told me she couldn't sense anything different.

Beverly rushed forward, checking the Romulan's pulse. With a nod I gave the others the all-clear and we continued to proceed. Our footsteps delicately bounced off of the metallic floor; I noticed Cuddy winced at the sound of her high heels piercing the air around us. "Sorry," she mouthed.

It was then I noticed a steady pounding from behind one of the nearby doors. Faint muffled groans were only just audible, along with some scraping sounds.

My crew glanced at each other. It had to be House.

We shuffled along the wall until Deanna's face lit up; she could sense the person's identity. Her voice was but a faint whisp in the air. "It's him."

Beverly ran her tricorder along the outside of the door. "He's not injured as far as I can tell-"

"Let's just get him out of there." Wilson pushed past the doctor and gently opened the door, leaning hesitantly inside. "House?"

A series of aggressive mumbles appeared, as did a surprised expression on Wilson's face. He stood aside and let the door completely swing open.

Cuddy sighed. "Anyone got a camera?"


	15. Fifteen

Fifteen

*House*

4:33 PM, January 7, 2005

 _I'm never going to hear the end of this._

I had hoped I'd have escaped before that moment, but obviously, I had not. It must've been a shock to them, walking in on their boss taped to a chair. I thought it made the job much more interesting.

Despite her attempts to hide it, I noticed Cameron was sniggering. "House.."

The tape over my mouth meant I couldn't snap at her, but it didn't mean I couldn't think of a good argument anyway. _Am I that more attractive now? Wow, thank you._

Picard wasted no time and marched straight over, carrying some sort of dumb-looking gun in his left hand. "Fast or slow?"

He yanked the tape away without waiting for an answer, allowing my lips to move again. I gasped gratefully at the fresh intake of oxygen. "They'll be back any second..t-they took the other girl—"

"Untie him," Picard barked at his crew. "Number One, you're with me." He disappeared out the door with Emo Man following at his heels.

I pretended to look insulted, Wilson untying my arms. "So I've just told you that you could be killed any second and you don't care?"

Cuddy knelt down and worked on freeing my feet, the pain in my leg steadily increasing as circulation came back. "Nice try. We've taken care of one of them.'

"Oh, you are a hero. You just need the Lara Croft outfit and I'll be happy."

In the background I noticed Crusher and Emo Girl also carrying the strange devices, sitting on a belt around their hips. "Come on, you're not really..?"

"Long story, House," Cuddy unwrapped the last of the tape. "Have they mentioned anything about Chase?"

I stretched my lame leg, attempting to regain some feeling. "The wombat has gone walkabout, mate. But there was a girl with me - they took her outside five minutes ago. Probably for sex."

"Is he always this rude?" Crusher asked harshly, pointing her weapon threateningly at me.

"Oh yes!" I massaged my thigh as soon as Cameron freed my hands. "Don't think I'm being specific."

"What did they do to you?" Cuddy ran her finger over my cheek. A flinch told me I had a cut or a bruise of some description.

I pouted. "They hurt my self estweem, mommy."

"Grow up, House. This is serious. What did they do? Where have they gone?"

A growly voice came from the doorway. "To settle the score."

We slowly turned to face the figure entering the room, carrying a limp body in his arms. The stranger threw back his hood to reveal it was my kidnapper.

"What have you done to that lovely companion of yours?" I snapped, my voice still hoarse.

He tossed the body at my feet, an uncomfortable snapping noise ringing in the air. It was the girl who'd been following me. Her pale skin highlighted the thin green line running across her neck, dripping into her uniform. The ridges on her forehead had also been sliced, a curtain of 'blood' raining down her cheeks and onto her neck. Cuddy turned almost as green as the blood.

I had no jokes to tell. My kidnapper was also a murderer. "You're a real scumbag, you know that?"

"Silence," The man snapped. He drew a syringe from his Vader-inspired cloak, filled with a deep red substance. "This is a mystery you'll never solve."

With that, the needle was jabbed into my cheek and my friend darkness returned once again.


	16. Sixteen

Sixteen

*Wilson*

4:36 PM, January 7, 2005

As soon as House's body slumped onto the floor he began to seize. Beverly and Deanna instantly shot the intruder while Cameron ran for some medication. House jerked vigorously; more vigorously than what he was supposed to.

"What's it done to him?!" I yelled at Beverly, holding his body between my arms.

"It's probably a neurotoxin!" She came rushing over, waving her old phone object over House. Her machine began to beep wildly. "His immune system is disintegrating!"

Cameron rushed back inside, carrying an armful of syringes and pills. "Got some lorazepam!" She tossed it at Beverly, who caught it with ease and stabbed it into House's neck. The seizure continued, House foaming at the mouth.

Beverly's machine rang again. "It's spread to his heart!"

"Get the paddles!" Cuddy shouted.

"We don't have time!" Beverly hissed. "He's dying, Lisa! We have to take over!"

Picard and Riker took the exact moment to rush back into the room, a relived expression on their faces. That quickly melted away once they noticed House's condition.

"Captain!" Beverly stood up and hurried over. "The Romulans have given him something; their medicine can't cure it. I need to get him beamed up."

I noticed Picard's expression darken further. He glanced over at House's struggling form. "You are aware of the risks?"

With a nod from his doctor, Picard tapped his pocket. "Picard to Data."

"Data here, sir." A appeared out of thin air, surprising all but the crew.

"Beverly and a patient are to beam up. Lock onto two Romulans as well."

"Aye, sir."

A shimmering light appeared around Beverly and House, looking similar to white glitter. They sparkled for a moment before disappearing completely. My mouth dropped open.

We had no time to marvel before footsteps came down the hallway, as well as a voice. "Saike?!"

I was expecting Picard to motion to us to hide somewhere and we'd shoot the man when he walked in. It was a very different scenario instead. Rider popped out of the doorway, beams of light firing from his phaser. The intruder clattered to the floor, a groan emerging from his lips. He managed to crawl into the morgue, Riker's phaser pointed at his back.

"Taibak," Picard crossed his arms. "Mind telling us what you're doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question," Taibak snarled, gasping with pain.

Deanna stepped forward, her phaser in her hand. "Were you the one who attacked Worf on the Enterprise?"

"Yes," The alien hissed. "He went down but was too strong. He resisted the poison."

"That'd be his backup immune system's fault," Riker commented.

Picard bent down to face the criminal. "Why go to all the trouble of following us, sneaking onboard our ship and travelling here just to kill a Klingon?"

"Who says I snuck onboard?" Taibak snickered.

"Well, there's no other way he could've gotten here, right?" I said shakily, the glare of the injured man piercing me.

"You're right, James," Picard replied. "But why?"

"We almost destroyed that treaty between the Klingons and the Federation," Taibak pulled himself into a sitting position. "It was this 'Worf' who ruined our plan."

"Petty revenge still exists in the future?" Cuddy looked on disapprovingly.

"Don't be surprised, Lisa," Picard's gaze didn't move from Taibak. "Humanity has outgrown this selfish desire, but other races pursue it."

"You may think that, Captain," Taibak laughed. "But at least we were always civilised-"

"Oh, shut up," Cuddy snapped. "I'm not interested. Get this idiot out of my hospital, Picard."

Once more, Picard tapped the machine in his pocket. "Data, can you beam up a third Romulan as well?"

"Aye sir." Whoever Data was answered almost instaneously.

The sparkles from before reappeared around the injured man, his piercing glare remaining long after he'd disappeared to wherever Picard's ship was. I shuddered.

"What century are you guys from again?" Cameron interrupted the silence.

"Twenty-fourth," Deanna laughed at our amazement. "This is just as amazing for us as it is for you."

Foreman hesitated for a moment. "..Can I get one of those scanner thingies?"


	17. Seventeen

Seventeen

*Riker*

January 7, 2005

"There's severe damage to his nerves," Beverly consulted her tricorder. "His lungs are stable, but his heart is completely shocked. The muscle itself is dying."

All eyes lay upon her patient upon the bio bed. It had taken ten minutes to House to stop seizing, but the mysterious substance had already done the damage. The muscle left in his legs was dead or dying, parts of his brain were swollen and it was likely he'd lose sight in one or both of his eyes.

Picard observed, his arms folded. "Can you rouse him?"

"If I do, he will be in excruciating pain," Beverly warned. She took a deep breath. "..With your permission sir…I would like to reconstruct the damaged muscles in his legs-"

"Out of the question." Picard said abruptly.

I was also taken aback. Even Jean-Luc was never this heartless. "Captain..he won't be able to walk-"

"If we heal him then there will be evidence of our presence here. It's too risky."

"We've already taken risks by bringing him aboard!" Beverly protested. Ignoring Picard's icy look, she moved to a nearby desk and grabbed a hypospray. "My duty is to heal, not to ignore."

"Doctor Crusher, make one more move toward him and I will personally have you escorted to the brig," Picard's eyes narrowed. He really meant business.

"Sir, don't you think this is a reasonable request?" I spoke up. "We're not implanting bionic eyes or regrowing limbs-"

"How will we explain it to his colleagues? Hmm?" Picard retorted. "They'll ask questions! They'll get curious and spread the word around. And there's no telling how many other people he knows that will see him and wonder why he's not hobbling around anymore!"

"They aren't aliens-"

"The Prime Directive still applies! For all we know just being here could have impacted history! Our history!" Picard forced himself to relax. "We've been here long enough. Get rid of the toxin and send him home. It's time to leave."

With that, our captain wearily exited sick bay, ripping off his leather jacket to reveal he was still wearing his Starfleet uniform. That man would _never_ take it off, apparently.

Beverly sighed. "Will, could you pass me that hypospray on the far left please?"

I turned and picked up the spray in question. "..I hope you're not thinking what I think you're thinking."

"No. He's right - I can't do it. That spray will just boost his immune system..help to flush out the poison." Beverly took the hypospray from my palm and injected it into House's neck. He flinched slightly in his unconscious state.

"There's something else I didn't mention to Jean-Luc…I wanted your advice," Beverly folded her arms. "He's not just unconscious, Will. He's in a _coma_. That toxin has eaten away at his brain and if I send him back without treating it, he'll die."

My mouth almost dropped open. "..What part of the brain is most affected?"

"From what I could tell, his memory and coordination. His brain stem is also damaged," Beverly answered. "He won't survive very long, Will. His heart or lungs could go at any second."

As if on cue, House began to seize once more, his body seemingly jerking more violently than before. Alarms and bleeps sounded from all over the place as I tried to hold House still. Beverly scrambled to the other side of sick bay, tossing aside grafts and blood samples.

"Hurry!" I yelled.

Beverly frantically ran back to House's biobed, her arms full of hyposprays. She began injecting them one after the other, gradually calming down the seizure. Within minutes House's heart rate had plummeted to the bare minimum, his breathing shallow, but the seizure had stopped.

My colleague looked at me with pleading eyes. "Will…let me treat him. Please."

I had no hesitation in giving my response. "Do it."

Beverly moved faster than I'd ever seen her before, rushing to grab yet more hyposprays and some surgical tools. She administered some more medication to House before gently slicing the base of his skull open, blood coating her hands.

I felt House's muscles begin to jerk under my palms. A monotone sound played from the monitors.

Beverly freaked. "He's flatlining!"

An almost microscopic needle was inserted into House's flesh, clear liquid disappearing from the syringe.

"It's full of regenerative solution I normally use for dementia patients," Beverly explained quickly.

"Will it leave any residue?"

At first I received no answer. Beverly grabbed some electrical nodes and placed them on various spots over House's chest, having ripping his shirt open. "Clear!"

House's body jerked with the electric shock. The flatlining shriek continued.

"Clear!"

Another shock. Beverly increased the voltage and applied yet another. "Clear!"

A brief heartbeat reappeared on the monitor, but once again flatlined.

Beverly remained professional. "Clear!"

I think the saying should've changed to fourth time lucky, for that was the one that finally brought House back to the land of the living. We waited cautiously for a while, watching the unpredictable heartbeat stabilise itself.

Half an hour later Beverly leant against the biobed, sighing in relief. "His scans have improved. The tissue is repairing itself; he'll be fine."

"Well done," I gave her a brief hug. "Will that solution leave anything behind?"

"It shouldn't. But I doubt they'll be able to detect it. And it fades with time anyway." Beverly got to work sealing up the incision, leaving no traces behind.

It took me a minute to realise the science behind her decision. "…That solution isn't just going through his brain, is it? It'll go around his whole body."

Beverly ignored my accusation, tidying up her mess. "Will, have you forgotten about the blood brain barrier? Even if it could get through that, it'll take a long time for it to do any actual healing."

I frowned. "You sure?"

"Trust me, Will. I'm a doctor," Beverly smiled. "Just promise me one thing?"

"What's that?"

"Do not mention this to the captain under threat of sedation."

I allowed myself to grin as Beverly went about scrubbing House's blood off of her hands. "Yes, ma'am."


	18. Eighteen

Eighteen

*Deanna*

January 8, 2005

"There was significant trauma to the brain tissue," Beverly explained. "We've managed to repair it, but my recommendation would be to assure him all of it was a hallucination or a dream or something. We're not entirely convinced that the toxin has left his system - we managed to extract as much as possible - but it will eventually disappear from his body. Just don't be surprised if he has another seizure within the next few days."

The were seated around House's hospital bed, with his colleagues watching his sleeping body closely. House had been stable since Beverly treated him, but was still hooked up to a respirator in case his lungs began to fail. The whirr of the machine was the only other sound present.

"He may need some counselling," I explained calmly. "But I have no doubts he will make a full recovery."

Lisa nodded briefly, her expression blank. "Can I be assured this will never happen again?"

I sensed contempt within her. "Of course. I think none of us want to return."

"We will need to stay for a little longer until Beverly can create the antidote for Worf, if you don't mind us borrowing your equipment." Picard stated.

"As long as you don't interfere with the rest of the hospital, go ahead." Lisa answered.

Before anyone could interject with another word, House began to stir. Wilson instinctively reached over and removed the intubation tube, a tiny amount of spit dripping onto the bedsheets.

It took House a while before he actually opened his eyes. His voice was hoarse and hollow. "..No strippers? Cuddy, you disappoint me."

Wilson sniggered. "House, there's company present."

House rolled his tired eyes while I took the chance to butt in. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"..Getting stabbed by some assassin wanna-be. But I don't understand; are you aliens or-"

"You've had some serious damage done to you," Beverly spoke up. "You need to take it easy for the next few days, and I've already spoken to Lisa - you are off work for at least a week-"

"What?" House attempted to sit up. "Cuddy, I'm fine!"

Lisa sighed. "House-"

"I'm as fit as a fiddle! All systems go! And don't try to change the subject; who are you?"

The frustration I felt radiating from House was becoming more obvious. "Don't think of this as recovery time. Think of it more..as a time to indulge yourself."

"Even I can get sick of porn and beer, lady."

"Do something productive then. Read a medical journal; watch a series; finish some quizzes. You need to keep your mind active."

"That sounds like advice you'd give to my grandmother," House's eyes narrowed. "Now will you answer my question or leave me hanging?"

Wilson tried to calm him down. "House, they're just..government officials. Nothing to worry about."

"That wasn't a random excuse at all!" House snarked. "Have you brought some tinfoil hats as well? What are you?"

Lisa stood up hurriedly and straightened her skirt. "I think we should give House some rest."

We took that as our cue to leave, filing out of the room and avoiding House's gaze. He grew more and more furious. "Who are you?!"

I could sense he was annoyed we were going, but there was something else I couldn't quite pinpoint. Was it sadness? Pain? Anger? It was a tangled, cluttered mess inside that man. I'd sensed at the beginning he was a twisted man, but not in the way I expected.

Picard snapped me out of my mind. "Thank you for tolerating us, Lisa."

"Remember that you are welcome here, Jean-Luc. Just because there were aliens tramping around my hospital doesn't mean I hate you," Lisa shook my captain's hand. "You know, if you wanted to hang around, we've got a spare position open - I would recommend Beverly for it."

I glanced to see Beverly blush, yet shake her head. "My duty is aboard my ship, Lisa, but thank you for this opportunity."

"If I may ask," Lisa fidgeted slightly. "What is medicine like in your time? I mean, I know you can't tell me what things you have and haven't cured, but how have doctors progressed?"

Picard opened his mouth to protest, but I beat him to it. "I think it's okay, Jean-Luc. We're not telling her anything majorly important."

Beverly smiled. "I'd said we've made great progressions - obviously - but it's to the point where anyone can have treatment. There are no more children dying of malaria in Africa; they've got access to hospitals and clean water and everything you have..." She paused. "I probably shouldn't say much more, but you'd be very proud, Lisa."

"Will he be okay?" I said quietly. "I mean House. He won't be trying to persue this mystery, will he?"

"If we can find an acceptable answer for him, he'll forget about it," Wilson sighed. "He's one of those men like Sherlock Holmes; he has to find a solution."

Riker glanced at a nearby clock. "Captain, Data will be expecting us."

"Understood. Come, Watson!" Picard joked. He turned back to Lisa. "..You'll be seeing Beverly and Will around still, but it is time Deanna and I left. We have some business to attend to."

"Of course. I won't keep you," Lisa stepped back. "Pleasure to meet you, Jean-Luc."

Picard returned the gesture and motioned for me to move back into a nearby corner. He tapped on his combadge. "Picard to Data. Two to beam up."

A faint but familiar robotic voice appeared. "Aye, sir


	19. Nineteen

Nineteen

*House*

9:07 AM, January 13, 2005

"Forty year old female with heart palpitations, tremors and excessive sweating.." Cameron trailed off. "House?"

"Busy." I placed the last card on top of my five-storey pyramid, only to swear as it came down onto my desk.

"House, grow up," Foreman chugged the last bit of his coffee and looked over Cameron's file. "No family history of stroke or heart failu-House!"

I tore my eyes away from my desk. "Panic attack?"

"No history of anxiety-"

"Go run some blood tests," I snapped. "Where's the wombat? Did you find him?'

"The night shift staff found him tied up in a drawer in the morgue last week," Cameron answered, fiddling with her ponytail. "He should be back tomorrow. Reckons some couple kidnapped him."

"That's nice, dear. Now go do those tests."

Cameron walked over and sat in front of me. She folded her hands. "House, you need to let go. The previous patient has been cured!"

"But I didn't figure it out. That other chick did, but I didn't."

"But he's fine now, House-"

"Yes, but Daddy here is mad because he didn't get to finish his pwuzzle," I whined.

It was then Wilson decided to stroll into my office, his lab coat swinging as he walked. "House, if you're talking about the alien guy again-"

"I didn't cure him, Wilson! I didn't solve the mystery."

"Who cares? At least you didn't kill him."

"You don't get it; that's part of the whole medicine business. Solving puzzles," I smacked my hand on the desk for emphasis. "The mystery is what makes it exciting."

"You're a doctor, not a detective. You're supposed to cure people-"

"How can I say I cured him when I don't know what he had?" I knew I had him there, for he scratched his head thoughtfully. "Learn from the master, Watson."

"I think Beverly should've given you more time off."

"You think?!" Cameron groaned. "Come on, Foreman. Let's go run these tests."

While my slaves vacated my office, Wilson took Cameron's place in front of my desk. "Are you seriously okay, House? This is becoming an obsession; he's just like any other patient-"

"Have you heard of the Completion Principle?"

"...This some kind of new video game?"

I sighed. "Uncultured swine. It's a psychological effect where if a task if left unfinished, the brain continues to use energy thinking about it."

"And you're using that as an excuse?"

"I'm trying to sound smart so you'll understand me. I didn't have a chance to diagnose that guy, therefore my brain is still processing and pondering it."

Wilson laughed. "Have you seriously not tried Googling his symptoms?"

I sullenly stared at my friend before opening a new tab on my laptop. The first page loaded, with a handful of sites appearing.

"Isn't it helpful?" Wilson asked.

"Oh yeah, it is," I snickered. "I know where to go when the next case comes along."

A/N: Phew! What a journey! I started writing this story in January and I'm very happy with how it's turned out. Thanks for reading and I hoped you enjoyed it!


End file.
